Monday, July 23, 2007

guess who stared back at me ...

... on wikipedia front page today?

Will you sleep well tonight after this?

Yeah. Me neither.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Harry Potter and His Last Book

Bad news: The first part is considerably boring, the second part is slightly boring.

Mediocre news: JK Rowling just created the phrase of the year: Undesirable Number One. I already have my You-Know-Who, now I need to find me my UNO. Ooops, I think I already have one (and he better take it as a compliment, backhanded one whatsoever).

Good news: Lily Potter née Evans is aquarean!! Adding up to fabulous aquareans out there.


Friday, July 20, 2007

bet your bottom dollars that

Dear friends (and stalkers, perhaps?),

if I were Annie, this minute I would have sung "Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you! Tomorrow! You're only a day awaaaay...!" for the 4,285th time this day only. Tomorrow is a big day. Big. As Carrie Bradshaw's Mr. Big. Well, not that sharp, though.

Tomorrow will be the only day so far that I would try my best to stick to a schedule, made by and for me only. Tomorrow has been the day that I've been waiting for, for about 9 years to be exact. How does it feel to wake up in a day you've been waiting for nine years? Well, try asking a bride. Or me, tomorrow.

Remember, I won't bother to answer your call, read your e-mail, read your text message, socialize, and perhaps shower. I mean, I kinda explained it all here anyway, right?

In case you need urgently to catch me wherever, you have to see me in person in order to reach me, here's my (hopefully not so) tentative schedule.

Friday, July 20, 2007

22:30 go to bed

Saturday, July 21, 2007

05:00 wake up
05:30 go to Plaza Indonesia
06:00 (hopefully) in a queue line at Periplus
06:01 queue line starts
06:15 (hopefully) having dates (two of them!) in hand
07:00 start reading
11:00 (hopefully not) my best friend's sister's wedding
13:00 continue reading

Sunday, July 22, 2007

09:00 Yoga class 1 (optional)
10:10 continue reading
11:20 Body Combat class (optional)
13:20 Yoga class 2
14:40 continue reading (optional)

Early Sunday evening is the time that you can expect me to socialize again. Can't give that guarantee though.

Have a nice weekend.

PS: On the record, I think one of two who die is Ginny Weasley. Problem is, every time I predicted something on the record, I turned out wrong. When it was off the record, it was right. Ah, well.

bizzare love triangle

Yesterday and the day before it I had to face one of the most difficult decision to make whole my life. I had to choose between two things that I love dearly. It was so difficult, just like naming your favorite own children. Crazy, eh?

I had to choose between continuing watching Survivor: Cook Islands till the end (and then Survivor: Fiji on the next day; I was on the last episode on both days) and bustling myself to my Yoga class.

At that time I sat on my chair, seemed like there was a glue layered between my ass and the plasticy surface of the chair. But I know I should get up, otherwise I would miss the Yoga class, but as always, curiosity held me down tight. On both occasions, I chose to get up and going Yoga.

I knew that both Survivors would give me a hard time when I got back home.

Ah well, I'd pay them back later on these days.

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Hairy Potter

The fifth installment of one of those bajillion Harry Potter franchise, this time in the form of movies, opens with a bang. BANG! No, seriously. I was punching my straw to my hard-to-open plastic cup cover containing some hundreds milliliters of iced lemon tea. BANG! Since it wasn't opened for the second time I tried it, there's another bang. BANG! That was the third and probably last bang that the movie offers.

Why's that? Because Potter, whose hair as described by the first book "simply grew that way -- all over the place", seemed to have decided to use a hefty amount of his Galleons locked safe in Gringotts to visit Nathaniel Hawkins and turned that all-over-the-place hair with a cut enough to make Kevyn Aucoin (may he rest in peace) jealous thinking why he's not the one who'd done him.

In four words, "OFF WITH THE BANGS!"

With a haircut like that, it is no surprise then if Harry Potter, a student in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, moonlights as a leather-bound rough-looking model. He may have contacted Collier Strong to apply concealer on top of his oh-so-famous scar on his forehead for this.

With a ready-to-brag hair and a modeling-summer-job in hands, it is only fair if Potter then rethinks his wardrobe. During one of those summer holidays (which was so dreadful because he had to meet two Dementors on this day), he wears a nicely-fit-and-I-suspect-specially-tailored T-shirt, worthy enough for a spread in GQ. The T-Shirt was perfection, with sleeves which end precisely in the middle of his biceps, the colour which makes him subtly blend to his environment, and still enables him to run very quick away from the Dementors. Edna Mode might have designed this.

In one of those other days (on which he has a chance to play Goggle V for a day by being able to use a public phone booth to get to a "secret place") he has to look formal. Hence, a nicely tailored jacket. Gosh, the jacket is so nice that I bet if GQ ever wrote a feature titled "Hot Summer Jackets for Y'all Under-18s" this may be one of the top ten, if not the top.

Then come the school days where there are no hairdressers in sight, uniforms are mandatory, and temperature drops allowing students to wear layers. Attention to fashion is then spared because it is inapplicable in the tropics anyway.

But don't fret. The jacket we drooled together makes another appearance near the end. Worn with a (retro? vintage? I need a second screening) (update: it turns out that it was the torso-hugging worn on the Dudley Demented day) T-Shirt, it is an unbelievable sight that I almost torn my hair apart just because I couldn't find any picture of it.

What? Oh, the movie is great. Visually pleasing. I mean come on, a movie whose hero is a model with customly tailored fashion pieces and a haircut to die for is never bad to look at.

Besides, he has two classmates, one who is a girl and clearly does a good job growing up but unfortunately doesn't have fashion sense as sharp as that chick who invented Terabithia. (Careful!! Link contains spoilers!!)

The other classmate, hmm, I feel pity for him. He is clearly the beefier one but told not to sculpt that beef into muscles. And in order to justify his beefiness, he was shown as the one who keeps munching.

Oh, yeah. Almost forgot. Plus, there are some magic in it.


Thursday, July 12, 2007

for Sascha Pries' eyes only

This. Is. So. Scary. Pleasantly surreal also, but very scary. OK. Maybe not scary. Intimidating. It's like Nick Hornby calls me saying, "Would you like to preview my latest unpublished manuscript?". Which will never happen. It's like Anderson Cooper's team sends me an e-mail asking, "Would you like to be Mr. Cooper's liaison when he's there?". Which will never happen. It's like ... ah, well, I think you got it.

I am of course about to reply to the comment. But since I'm me, the reply got somewhat lengthy, and I decided to write a post as a reply to the comment.

(So for all of you non-Sascha-Pries out there, I apologetically understand if you opt to skip this post. He didn't leave an e-mail address for crying out loud. How the hell am I supposed to response other than write this on my blog and randomly hoping that he would be back one day? Hehehe..)

First of all, Pries sounds German. That's why I thought you were a he, because I've met one or two Saschas during my stay in Germany. And you stated in the feature that you are German. So I did think you're a he. However, some Saschas are she's. Even one of the results of searching its meaning came up with a page that says it is a female name. So I played it safe to not to be called sexist. :) Glad you come to the rescue and save the confusion.

I would like to post the whole feature, though. But I don't know whether it would have been a violation to copyright or something. I'm not so equipped (information wise) on that subject. Hence the snapshot and the link.

I find some problems every time I browse through the Jakarta Post's website. What troubles me the most is the archiving algorithm that they use, which is very foreign for a visitor. I had my worries that the link to the "melting pot" article would be changed in the next few days after I posted the snapshot, but at that time, that was the link to the full article.

So thanks for the heads-up reminding me that the link has been changed. However, "By the power of Grayskull! I have the power!!". With that power, let's keep this article alive. :) I kinda creatively used Google as my Castle Grayskull, though.

If you need a reason why I think the article you wrote made me think that you are now one of my heroes, we need to set up a more private environment, because I don't really like to talk about some of the things that I need to reveal in order to get the message across.

I can easily be contacted through az.habibie[this is where you type that swirly thing when on a German keyboard it would be Alt Gr + Q]gmail[this is where you have a chance to utilize your pointillism talent]com. Or anytime you just need another head to talk about Indonesian nitty-gritty over a cup of coffee. Just a friendly reminder, I don't drink at Starbucks, though. Starbucks and a swear word rhymes with Starbuck often comes in the same sentence, when it comes to me.

Und natürlich vielen vielen Dank auch für aufstehen und den Kommentar. Das war sehr angenehm.

Sunday, July 08, 2007


In about two weeks, the preparation for locking myself up in my bedroom will have its fruit. I will be locked with an enough-for-48-hours supplies. Water. Food. Fruits. Yoga mat. Lights. Candles. Lots of them. Essential oils and aromatherapy utensils might work as well. And also emotions. Not the Bee Gees or Mariah Carey one, but things you have in you.

I will plug off my telephone, pull off internet connection, still thinking about plugging in my laptop which I can't live without. I won't answer my mobile. Text or voice wise. I will ignore any calls from my family. Friends may have to wait for another two days and two nights to know my whatabouts and whereabouts.

I will spend the next 48 hours or so with one to gaze at and direct all my concentration to. Cuddle with. Sleeping with. Laugh to or with. Cry with (if necessary). Sleep on. Hug. Touch. Caress. Should I fall asleep, I may drool on too.

Things like, "I knew it!", "Give me smore!", "Noooooo!", "Whyyyyyyyy?", "Yeah!!!", "Give me more!!", "Yes. Yes. Yes." or the ever universal "Oh. My. God." may be heard. Loudly or faintly. I don't think moaning and orgasmic screaming or laugh would be necessary, though. Regardless, after the 48-hour period is over, I'll become a new man. A sufficed satisfied new man that is.

One thing more. I'm seeing the face of my affair for the first time today. Face and butt. It's only fair that you know the face (and butt) of your future affair whom you're about to encounter a grueling 48-hour with. Now, I bet you two would also like to meet.

Meet my date.



Oh. And apparently, ever since I asked myself, "What the fuck does 'hallows' mean?", looks like I've got me some company.

Two weeks to go, baby! (Monica-like) TWO WEEKS!

Enjoy the rest of the weekend.

Saturday, July 07, 2007

best word verification ever

Just when, exactly, did Blogger decide to go urban?

weekend on steroids

You know what, I really hate myself for hating random people I don't know. Sometimes passionately. Like a British lad I know who hates Keira Knightley with a passion just because and I quote, "I can't stand her mouth."

But I can't escape the fact that I am once again ridiculously very happy for this news.

Great weekend, no?

Tuesday, July 03, 2007


What will happen if you join a Dance Addict class to the music of Beautiful Liar, instructed by an almost-but-not-too-much hyperactive, addicted to hip thrusts and groin actions, always-looking-at-you-(or your way)-when-he-asked-questions ("Ready, guys?" Ne-fucking-ver!), Beyonce-wannabe, encouraging-to-mop-the-floor-with-your-shirt-and-pants choreographer?

Possible answers:

a. An accidentally kicked dancing partner. Accidentally accidental. Not accidentally in a Sir Norman Fry kinda way. Sorry, mate.

b. Accidentally kicked dancing classmates. Sorry, mate and mate.

c. A sore butt for being accidentally kicked. Twice.

d. A pair of hip joints needing recovery (but used for Power Yoga the next day anyway).

e. A gassy stomach. So bad so that you can't lift your left hip up.

f. An urge to go to the toilet to exhaust any gas, but only started when you were on a public bus that drove slowly but surely like that turtle in the race with the hare.

g. Trots that lasted less than five seconds.

h. A great time you know you would have had if only that friend of yours who is a huge Shakira fan (and tirelessly pushing the agenda of anti public display of self hip thrusting) had joined you.

i. An intro of a song you can't get out of your head even after 48 hours and you think that it should be your next ringing tone.

j. all of the above.

Monday, July 02, 2007

the real Sascha Pries, please stand up

Seriously, who the fuck is this Sascha Pries? Well, one thing for sure, this column published yesterday (snapped on the right) just made him (or her for that matter) my hero one of my heroes (or heroines for that matter).

I should have some kind of heroes weekly I think.

Kick some Monday's ass, guys.

Update: Link to the article. Hopefully it's permanent now.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

bookity book

The great Jason Kottke once posted a link to a flickr group about a picture of stacked books. The photographer of these pictures then wrote a few lines telling that the books pictured are the ones that they are currently reading or intend to read or are proud of having standing on the bookshelf collecting dust, waiting someone to comment, "Nice rack." to the owner.

The last thing is just me, and it would never happen as I am pretty rackless anyway. Aren't I?

These pictures also work as a reminder of how far from the intention of reading those, the books are finally actually read.

I wasn't one of who posted any pictures, I have lost the link, but I am posting my stack now.


Fever Pitch by Nick Hornby. The first non-fiction Nick Hornby that I buy and want to read. Unlike other books where he casually talks about music (and I know nothing about music), Hornby talks about football in this book. Well, look at that, something that I know nothing about as well. At least, everybody says that it's not only about football. It's also semi-autobiographical. Anyway, there is one non-fiction Hornby that I'd reeeaaally like to read, in which he talks about books. It just costs too damn much.

Stardust by Neil Gaiman. The non-illustrated one. I've read it. Sometime in late 90s or early 2000s. The graphic novel one. The BEAUTIFUL graphic novel one. Know the story. Forget some parts. A warm up before seeing the movie. By the way, Yvaine is the hottest how-one-can-pronounce-it name for a star ever.

Wicked by Gregory Maguire. Wait. It is supposed to be Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. I've heard the musical like hundreds of times so I'm familiar with the story. But it is said that the book is more steamy, political, and graphic than the musical. In one word: yum. In five words: No One Mourns the Wicked!!! on top of my lung.

Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris. I don't know anything about the author. I don't know anything about the book. My best friend told me that he wants to read it. And I am affectedtious. You know what I mean. If you notice, it isn't even out the plastic wrap yet. Hopefully a worthy buy. Ouch.

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. DON'T MOCK!! Once in a while, a man deserves to read a heavy book, right? Maybe I will only survive after reading the first page. But at least someday I can say something about Dostoyevsky. At least I'm not reading Emma. Wait. I've read it. Hehehee...

Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen. Well. I read this on and off every time I need to escape from other books. They are just so beautiful. They meaning the fairy tales. Well, the books too.

No Indonesian? Well, I declared loudly, by loudly I mean on a dinner table in a restaurant with some friends, that the first Indonesian book that I would buy after a while would have been IPDN Undercover by Inu Kencana. Just because I love gossip. Let me elaborate. I love gossip about strangers that I don't know. Not your next door cute little adolescent. But after seeing the price, I declared on the next occasion that it had to wait until I know the two who die in the Deathly Hallows.

Latest one off of the stack? A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby. Yeah, for the eighty-third time. Hehehe..

Have a nice weekend and reading.